


Rendezvous

by ponderinfrustration



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 08:10:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19437412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponderinfrustration/pseuds/ponderinfrustration
Summary: Carlotta has been with many women in her time, and it is frequently pleasant to remember them, but she never expected she would lie down for the prim ballet mistress.





	Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ConvenientAlias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/gifts).



> Written for ConvenientAlias, who placed second in the PotORarerPairs Fic Contest and who requested Madame Giry/Carlotta. This was supposed to be cracky more than smutty but, well, things happened

She has always known the proclivities of the youngest Giry. It is there to see in every way – the smooth roll of her hips, knowing tilt of her chin, a smile just the right side of flirtatious (by about a hair’s breadth, maybe), eyes that see too much and tell too much. She will not pretend that she has never considered the girl. After all, there is something delicious in someone so satisfied in who she is at such a young age (Carlotta herself was quite a lot more than seventeen when it dawned on her, but no such surprises with the youngest Giry.) It is more that there is something truly appealing in those who doubt what they feel, and they can be so much more fun. 

Perhaps someday for the youngest Giry, but for now there is the Daaé girl. A little older, a lot less sure, but with hands like magic when she warms to her subject, and her moans are the most delicious thing, and her tongue is positively _sinful_ for someone who plays so innocent and that’s what makes it such a delight to feel upon her skin. She lays the girl down, and the girl keens to her touch, and after attends to her with an intensity that makes Carlotta need to shift her hips just to think of it. 

To think what hands and mouth can do. 

Why should any woman ever involve herself with a man? Clearly they do not appreciate the arts they are missing out on. 

Lately, though, it is not the Daaé girl who has been on Carlotta’s mind so much (though when she is on Carlotta’s mind it remains just as delightful as ever and her own hand will suffice where there is an absence of someone else’s.) No, not the fair Christine, but someone much older. 

Someone, a good deal, like Bridgette. 

She never suspected such things of the ballet mistress as she received at her tongue, and Carlotta is not a religious woman but _God_ that mouth. 

Those hands. 

That commanding voice. 

She’s wanted to lie down with many women in her time (her doing the laying down), but Bridgette is the first she wants to lie down _for_. 

The littlest Giry did not fall far from the tree, with those sashaying hips. Bridgette keeps hers covered beneath her prim black layers, but those are hips that sashay better than anyone else’s. 

(They have sashayed for Carlotta, and rendered her speechless. The last time that happened she was forced to pin the cause of it on the mythical Phantom, but there was nothing mythical about the way Bridgette moved for her. A ballerina even now who would put Sorelli to shame, and Carlotta does not say that lightly. Not after the way Sorelli’s fingers have moved within her.) 

Carlotta bites her tongue to stifle a gasp. It is ten minutes to rehearsal. There will be people gathering. She needs to be in her best voice. They do not have _time_ for this now but Bridgette’s tongue is gentle and firm, the pressure of it against that nub between Carlotta’s legs almost enough to make her scream. Soft kisses, careful licks, just a little press... 

She swallows a noise deep in her throat, cups the back of Bridgette’s head to press her closer, closer... _there._

A spasm shoots straight to her core, and she bucks against Bridgette’s face. 

How did they get themselves into this? 

It doesn’t matter because she has never been into anything better and her heart is racing, racing, breaths stuttering short as Bridgette slips a finger inside of her, and then, slowly, a second one. She tightens around the intrusion, sucking in a breath, and Bridgette’s lips nibbling her make her toes curl. 

She surrenders herself to the touch upon her skin, and gasps.


End file.
